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Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. The whole story of your relationship is a fabrication. " He departed, musing. "What is your name?" "Ruth. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. ‘Don’t tell me. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently.
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